My Father's Son
by b-mystique
Summary: Morgan helps a fellow colleague in need, in the process discovering that there is more to Rossi that meets the eye. *2010 CM Profiler's Choice Award for Best Rossi/Morgan *


**A/N: Umm, I love Rossi and Morgan, and I think they have an interesting relationship, because they are just so similar in many ways. I wrote this ages ago and finally decided to post. I hope you enjoy it. : )**

**Disclaimer: If I owned CM the men would be shirtless**_** all **_**of the time….so yeah I don't own it. I don't have a beta so all errors are all my fault, especially considering it's one in the morning and I'm likely to have a few. : )**

Derek Morgan parked his SUV in front of the seedy club located on the other side of town. It wasn't the type of establishment he would visit on his own. He much rather preferred the young, vibrant, up and coming clubs in the center of D.C., the clubs that were frequented by ambitious college students, tourists, and young cops and agents fresh out of the Academy. He found such establishments to be lively and thriving, the polar opposite of where he found himself at that moment. He eyed the rundown hole in the wall pub. It was old school with crumbling bricks and cracked cement. He knew of it in passing. At one point in time it was the place to be for up and coming agents. It was a hangout spot for the 17th Precinct and for Quantico's finest, of course that was roughly two decades ago.

He whipped out his phone and toyed with the keypad, scrounging up the voicemail message that had pulled him away from his latest remodeling project just a half hour before. He pushed the green button and the unfamiliar male voice flooded the car.

"_Hello, Anthony? My name is Johnny. I'm a bartender at Marcy's Pub on Fifth and Main. I'm afraid we have your father here a….Dave Rossi, and he's had too much to drink. I'm hoping that you'll be able to come and pick him up…"_

Morgan sighed deeply as he scrambled out of the truck. He definitely had the right place. He initially didn't know how to react to the message. At first, he almost deleted it upon hearing the foreign name, naturally assuming that someone had called the wrong number. It was upon hearing the name of his colleague, that he wasted no time jumping into his truck and heading across town.

He maneuvered his way past two scantily clad middle aged women, swatting their hands away as they tugged on his leather jacket and whispered lascivious propositions in his ear. He nearly choked as he pushed open the door and the smoky air intermingled with the tang of sour whisky filled his lungs. His dark brow furrowed as he squinted, searching through the musky room, before finally spotting the bartender wiping down the counter. "Hey, my man, I'm here to pick up a Dave Rossi?" he posed it as a question as he leaned against the counter, patiently awaiting a response.

The lanky bartender looked up, his eyes expressing his surprise as he gave the tall, mocha toned man the once over. He paused midwipe and shook his shaggy dark hair out of his eyes before responding. "Anthony is it?" he breathed, finally recovering from his bewilderment. He continued without waiting for a confirmation, his thick Irish accent warming now. "Right. Anthony, the son. You're here to pick up Rossi,"

Morgan knowingly ignored the inaccurate title and name being projected on him "Yes, I'm here to pick him up. You must be Johnny, the one who called. Thanks for taking the time to contact me. Where is he?"

Johnny nodded his head towards the back of the pub where the mature agent sat alone in the far right corner.

Morgan followed his motion until he spotted the man for himself. "How many has he had?"

"Honestly, it got a wee bit busy here an hour or so ago so I lost track after seven," the young man seemed genuinely apologetic over that admission. "He was quiet for awhile, but then he frightened off a few patrons when he started talking about serial killers. He annoyed a few more when they were subjected to his….abrasiveness," Johnny chortled quietly. "The man has no verbal filter! Some people didn't take too well to his brutal honesty. I for one admired him for his frankness, he made one of my unpleasant patrons cry, and for that I'll be indebted to the man," he laughed. "Your father is a very funny man," he added before snickering and going back to wiping the counter.

Morgan chuckled along with the man. Apparently an inebriated Rossi had a similar "charm" as the sober one. "You by chance get his keys from him?"

"Uhh, yeah," the bartender tossed the keys to Morgan and grimaced. "He let me take the keys but he refused a cab, and he would not tell me his address. It took me an hour to finally get some information out of him. He told me to call his boy and he gave me your number. He kept muttering something about his son Anthony," the young man shrugged and went back to work. "Sorry for gawking at you earlier. You….surprised me. I guess I was expecting someone different, though you do look a little alike,"

Morgan chuckled, unable to suppress the sarcastic comment from escaping. "Yeah, we get that a lot. The similarities are uncanny," he muttered. "Thanks again Johnny!" Morgan smacked his palm on the bar surface before nodding at the Irishman and heading over to his colleague.

His mind was swimming with incessant questions about the information that he had just received. _Who was Anthony? Did Rossi really have a son? What was it that drove his colleague to getting sloppy drunk in the first place? What possessed Rossi to call him?_ The questions continued to circulate as he rested his hand on Rossi's shoulder gently, trying his best not to startle the man, to no avail. Rossi flinched and turned to face the young agent, his eyes were glossy and the pungent smell of scotch and beer emanated from him.

"Don't sneak up on me like that!" he slurred, it was evident that his intentions were to sound menacing, but his voice thick with his excessive alcoholic intake made his words sluggish and his intentions ineffective. "I need another beer," he raised his hand to signal the redheaded waitress, but she continued to walk away, studiously ignoring him.

"Hey Miss," Morgan got the woman's attention. "Two waters please," he smiled politely at her as she nodded and disappeared, returning soon after with two glasses of water and placed them on the table before disappearing again.

Morgan sunk down in the seat nearest to Rossi and pushed the two glasses towards the man. "Drink up," he ordered, slightly surprised when the elder man obliged with no argument.

Rossi gulped down the two glasses of water before speaking. "How'd you now I was here?"

"Bartender phoned me," Morgan responded evenly.

"How'd he get your number?" Rossi asked while staring off into space

"Apparently you gave it to him," Morgan answered patiently. He studied the man for a split second before deciding that he would push a little further. "He….thought I was your son Anthony, so he called and told me to come pick you up,"

"Right," Rossi hesitated before continuing. "I remember that now. I wish I would have timed your arrival. I would have loved to have seen his face when _you_ came in claiming to be my kid!" He barked out a laugh that was unlike his usual chuckling.

Morgan studied his coworker silently noting the flicker of pain that crossed his face at the mention of Anthony. He also noticed that Rossi's humor was a tad off, it wasn't genuine but more so as an effort to deflect. "He thought we looked alike,"

"Now that's a first," Rossi grinned, his words continued to slur and his head lolled to the side.

"Maybe we should get you home," Morgan said quietly as he stood to his feet. He scanned the small scrap of paper on the table and cringed at the amount before digging in his wallet and tossing a wad of cash on the table, enough for the bill and a reasonable tip for the waitress. He reached down to grab Rossi's arm in an effort to help the man up, but his hand was shoved away roughly.

"Dammit Morgan, I can walk," Rossi hissed. He jumped up too fast and wobbled a bit before composing himself and staggering out of the pub. He stopped in front of the SUV and tugged on the handle.

Morgan jogged behind him rolling his eyes and sighing heavily at Rossi's manic attempt at ripping the car door off of its hinges. He unlocked the door and watched as Rossi scrambled into the car in an uncoordinated fashion and slammed the door shut, much harder than necessary. He hopped into the driver's side and started the engine.

"We'll just leave your car here and you can get a ride back to retrieve it in the morning," Morgan tried to speak softly but inebriated individuals, especially older men grated his nerves and brought back dreadful memories.

"Yeah, I sort of figured as much," Rossi responded sarcastically, crossing his arms in front of his chest and rolling his eyes. "Are you going to get a move on it?"

Morgan gritted his teeth but took off down the street on command. He was raised to respect his elders but Rossi always rubbed him the wrong way, even more so than Hotch or Gideon. He respected the man's work; after all he was in fact a founding father of the BAU and a legend. He had one of the best records ever, and so on and so forth; he really didn't want to boggle his mind with the useless statistics that Reid had spouted upon Rossi's return. The man was passionate about the job and damn good at it, and that was something that Morgan admired and respected about Rossi. They had a rather tense relationship but he respected the man immensely, though he may not have shown it often.

The buildings became a blur as he sped down the highway finally becoming aware of the fact that he had no idea what Rossi's address was. "Hey Ross, what's your address?" He turned when he didn't get a response. "Rossi?" he shook the man in an unsuccessful attempt at waking the man from his alcohol induced slumber, the only response being a snore. He growled before whipping his phone out and pressing seven on his speed dial.

"_House of Midnight Lovin' how might I service thee?"_

Morgan chuckled softly. "Do you always answer the phone at this time with suggestive proposals baby girl?"

"_Only when I know my chocolate chip is ringing my phone at this hour,"_ she quipped, her voice thick with sleep. "_Do you need my services? You'd literally be making my dreams come true,"_

Morgan smirked, "Mmmm, as tempting as that sounds Pen, I need to be rerouted to the office of Supreme Genius"

"_Oh,"_ she took on a more serious tone. _"What do you need sweetcheeks?"_

"Rossi's address actually," he replied wryly. "I'm not exactly sur-"

"_4837 Riverton Dr. Is something the matter? Is everything alright?"_ her voice rose with panic.

"Everything's fine angel, and you amaze me woman! What do you sleep with your computer on your pillow?" he teased lightly trying to soothe her.

"_Only because I have a picture of you as my screensaver,"_ she yawned again.

Morgan shook his head and chuckled. "Get some rest sleepyhead. We'll talk in the morning. Love you,"

"_Ditto,"_ she yawned again. _"Night Derek."_He hung up the phone and made a right, turning onto Rossi's street.

"I wish you'd just sleep with the woman already," Rossi grumbled, waking up from his nap.

Morgan simply clenched his jaw and tightened his hand around the steering wheel as he pulled in Rossi's driveway. It was a rather large cabin, secluded from everything else. There was open land and thick woods in the distance. He turned off the engine and looked over at Rossi. "Let's go," he said firmly as he jumped out of the car and headed up the walkway.

Rossi stumbled out of the passenger side and staggered behind him. "Where are my keys?" he bellowed.

Morgan glowered at him before using the keys to unlock the door and letting Rossi and himself inside. Rossi barged past Morgan and flicked on the lights, stomping up the stairs and mumbling something under his breath about changing clothes. Morgan stared after the man unable to restrain his extreme annoyance. He had done his part; he didn't understand why that man could be so impossible to deal with. He wandered around in search of the kitchen, planning to leave a glass of water and an aspirin out. Rossi would no doubt have one hell of a hangover come the next morning. He filled up a glass and pulled out his own bottle of Advil. God knows anyone who spent a day with Reid learned to keep aspirin on hand for the headache that was more than likely to come. He sat the aspirin and the glass on the counter, not wanting to risk going upstairs if Rossi was still indecent.

He wandered down the long hallway until he reached a den. He flicked on the light and took in the reddish brown walls and the antique furniture. There was a bookcase that took up an entire wall, filled with Psych books, many of them being his own novels. An old wooden desk sat adjacent to the bookcase, scattered papers and old case files were sprawled about it. Morgan noticed the fireplace on the other side of the room, dozens of pictures spread across the mantle. His curiosity got the better of him as he strolled across the room to get a better look, surprised at what he seen. They seemed to have been arranged from most recent to oldest. There were random pictures of the team on the Learjet. There were photos of Reid playing chess, Emily reading a novel and laughing, JJ coming from the kitchen nook with a cup of coffee and a bright smile, Hotch and Rossi smiling and laughing, pictures of Garcia in her office talking through her headset and unaware of the camera, even a picture of him wearing his headphones. There were more pictures of Rossi accepting awards and signing autographs, and a couple of pictures of Rossi with Gideon and Hotch in the earlier days. The row of pictures moved on with those of family members and Rossi as a child. The picture that caught Morgan's eye was that of a slightly younger Rossi with a young man. They were holding up a fish that they had apparently caught and the two men were smiling broadly. Morgan traced his finger over the photo and sighed at the photo of the young man and his father who he resembled a great deal.

"Go ahead and ask," Rossi's voice was quiet and worn, but he still managed to startle Morgan. Morgan turned around to see Rossi leaning back into the worn sofa, aspirin and water in hand. "Thanks by the way," he popped the aspirin in his mouth and guzzled down the water.

"Is that?" Morgan hesitated not knowing how he wanted to phrase the question.

"That was Anthony," Rossi exhaled, not meeting eyes with the younger agent.

Morgan nodded at the use of the past tense before sinking down into the seat across from Rossi. "My condolences," his voice was soft and sincere and his chocolate eyes revealed his deepest sympathies for the man. "It's hard-"

"Don't," Rossi interrupted sharply. "I'm not one of our victims, nor am I Penelope, so I advise you to refrain from using that patronizing, overly concerned, pity voice.

Morgan's jaw hardened and he narrowed his eyes. Rossi wouldn't even allow him to be the concerned friend that he wanted to be at that moment. Or for that matter, relish, strange and off putting as it may have seemed, but relish in the fact that he finally knew something more about a man who maintained a cloud of mystique around him. He knew Rossi was inebriated but he seemed to have sobered up a bit and he was more like himself. He could no longer hold back on his growing irritation with the man.

"Fine Rossi, what did you want me to say?" he spat out, his brow furrowing. "I'm trying to be a good friend,"

Rossi stared intently at the young man, a smile slowly pulling at his lips. "I don't want you to be a friend Derek. I want you to be you," He chortled at the creases that were deepening in Morgan's forehead and at the tightening of the agent's mouth. "I don't need your sympathies Derek. I know you have them, you're a good person, but you don't need to express them, they won't bring him back,"

He paused and rubbed his temple trying to massage out the headache. The aspirin hadn't kicked in yet. "Cut the crap Derek. You stayed out of morbid curiosity. Own up to it. You have questions, so ask them. One of the many things I respect about you, is your ability to cut to the chase. No beating around the bush, no blowing smoke up anyone's ass. We have that in common so get on with it," he continued to stare at the man, waiting for a response.

"Fine Rossi. What the hell were you thinking getting wasted at some hole in the wall? I mean what are you, 20?" his voice boomed. "You got sloppy. You went into details about our job Rossi, about recent cases. You apparently gave out information that the public shouldn't know, you betrayed confidentiality of victims, and you scared off customers for crying out loud! Then to top it all off you gave the bartender my work line! What the hell is wrong with you?" Morgan hissed.

Rossi's hearty laughter echoed throughout the room. "Now there's the Derek I know," his laughter subsided before he went on quietly. "I was irresponsible. I know that," he sighed in resignation. "It's the anniversary of his death…Derek. It bothered me more so than usual this year," His voice was relatively calm but Morgan could still here it waver a bit.

Morgan's face softened and he felt his anger and his frustration gradually dissipate. His heart went out to Rossi. He, himself knew what losing a family member could do. He tried to keep a strong façade however, knowing that Rossi wouldn't respond to anything he perceived as patronizing. "What happened to him?" he inquired firmly, using the same voice he used to interrogate witnesses and victims.

Rossi stared off into space looking past Morgan. "He was killed 13 years ago in a car accident. No drunk or reckless driver. No one to blame, just landing on black ice," his voice cracked and he let out a shaky breath. "He was on his way to see me…to meet me for dinner. He never showed of course. There was no one to blame…unless you count God. I blamed him for awhile," His eyes met Morgan's as they both were reminded of their spiritual debate. His eyes bore into the man, patiently waiting for him to continue on with his interrogation of sorts.

Morgan exhaled but did his best to remain stone-faced. They had a rule amongst themselves that they wouldn't profile one another, but the pieces were falling into place and he was finally making sense of his colleague. "Why is it harder to deal with this ti-?"

"I don't know," Rossi whispered.

Morgan nodded his head slowly. "Okay. Why did you call me?" he asked the sincerity seeping through despite his attempts at keeping it away.

"Ahhh, the important question,"

"Why not Hotch or….or Emily?"

"Aaron has enough on his plate. He's still trying to keep it together. Loss and grief are still fresh on his mind and he doesn't need to deal with mine. I didn't need that type of friend. Emily, she's kind…and a good listener, but I didn't need her. I didn't need that sickenly sweet compassion. I didn't need that type of friend either. Plus…neither of them know," he added.

Morgan's eyes widened a bit before he quickly and efficiently masked his shock. He wasn't wholly surprised that Emily didn't know that Rossi had a son but he was undoubtedly surprised that Hotch didn't know. He and Hotch were fairly close and had been for some time. He cleared his throat before beginning. "How is it Hotch doesn't know? I thought you two were close?"

"I was married to the job Derek. Anthony's mother and I didn't last very long. I…I'm not the marrying type. I've always put my work first. Aaron only knew me for my work ethic," his eyes were slightly unfocused as he went into deep thought. "After too many missed birthdays and football games, she decided it was best that I…limit my time with Anthony. We spoke on the phone and wrote each other and I seen him four times a year. He was never around so I never brought him up and Aaron never noticed. He was a young man when he died. That night we were getting together to discuss…improving our relationship." Rossi's voice was gruff but his pain was written all across his countenance, intensifying as he continued to sober up. The tension in the room was suffocating them both.

"I'm sure you were a good father. I'm sure he knew how much you loved him, Rossi," Morgan choked out.

Rossi coughed in discomfort and closed his eyes before speaking again. "You know you're my favorite, right?" It came out lighthearted and his eyes were still closed preventing him from seeing the confusion that flickered across Morgan's face. "We're not supposed to have favorites. At least, that's what they say, but they're politically correct dicks, of course we're going to have damn favorites,"

"What?" Morgan questioned, uncertain as to whether or not Rossi's statements were more drunken ramblings.

Rossi chortled and opened one eye to peer at Morgan. "Aaron tries to be diplomatic, professional, fair, and all that crap but he clearly favors Jennifer as you well know by now, usually that works against you. Jason didn't really do the whole socializing thing but he favored Dr. Reid…..you're my favorite. Although my reasonings are pretentious and egotistical,"

Morgan leaned back into the couch and stifled a laugh. It was true that Hotch and Gideon had favorites, but he wasn't sure about Rossi, and he certainly didn't believe that he would be up high on the list for the elder man. "You could have fooled me!"

Rossi barked out another laugh. "That's part of it Derek. You ever wonder why we butt heads so much?" He didn't pause long enough to give Morgan a chance to respond. "We're two peas in a pod kid. You can be abrasive and blunt. You speak your mind. You don't ass kiss and you don't give a damn about being diplomatic if it isn't warranted. You ask the questions that no one else will ask, when no one else has the balls to do it themselves. You know how to challenge authority…." Rossi grinned at Morgan. "You're me, kid. You're a mini me. You're passionate about the job…about the people. You're a natural profiler, hell you're even a bit of a ladies man. You're me twenty years ago Derek. Don't get me wrong, I respect and admire the others but to be honest, and that's what you and I do best, you're my….you're my guy. I'm the most confident in your abilities….to carry on the legacy."

Morgan fidgeted, never being one to take compliments well. He wasn't even certain if he really was being complimented or if this was some random bull brought on by Rossi's altered state of mind due to his grief and drinking. He was dumbfounded to say the least; uncertain as to whether or not he could take it at face value. "I respect you for all the same reasons and many more Sir," he responded quietly.

"I know. Another reason I like you," Rossi snorted.

Morgan shook his head and chuckled. "Why are you always so hard on me?" he pondered out loud, taking advantage of the rare moment of intimacy between the two of them.

Rossi stopped laughing abruptly and his voice grew solemn. "You remind me of my son. He was a spitfire. Just like you….just like his old man," he laughed without humor. "I missed a lot with him. I make up for it in different ways. I suppose I subject you to that…to the tough love aspect of it," he shrugged. "I know it isn't fair to you, but I doubt it'll change" he added unapologetic, glancing up at Morgan.

Morgan fixed him with a piercing glare that dragged on for an uncomfortably long amount of time. "I'm okay with that," he responded after awhile. They stared at one another in a quiet mutual agreement, both sensing the shared understanding and newfound respect for one another.

"My head's still killing me. I think I'll retire for the evening," Rossi said quietly while hoisting himself up from his seat. "You can see yourself out," he paused, his face contemplative, before he chose to continue. "Or if you like there's a guest bedroom down the hall to your left,"

"I think I'll take you up on that. No one told me you lived in the damn boondocks. Like hell am I going to drive through that pitch black forest at this time of night!"

Rossi chuckled and headed for the door, but not before patting Morgan on the shoulder. "Thanks Derek," he left without another word.

Morgan made his way down the hall until he reached the guest room. He didn't realize how exhausted he was as he flopped down on the bed, not bothering to check out his surroundings. He kicked his shoes off his feet and brought his hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. He didn't expect to have such an emotional evening and he never anticipated learning more about David Rossi.

He reflected on what he had just learned. He and Rossi's lives seemed to have paralleled. Rossi longed for his son everyday, spending every moment silently making amends and battling his own regrets, just as he spent his days longing for his father and doing everything imaginable to make his father proud. He felt connected to Rossi in ways that he never really thought about and he realized that they were in fact very similar. He thought back to the bartender who had mistaken them for father and son, going as far as to say that they were alike. There was in fact truth behind those words, a truth that never crossed his mind.

Rossi had always been a bit of a mystery to Morgan, but now he seen the man more clearly. Behind the rough exterior, behind the bold, outspoken, blunt, non nonsense demeanor was a ma who truly cared. Rossi said himself that he was married to the job. If that was the case, then his colleagues were his family. If the pictures on his mantle didn't prove it than every pep talk he gave Hotch, every wisecrack and hair tousle he gave Reid, every smile he flashed at JJ, every bit of advice he gave Emily, ever time he made Garcia smile….all of that proved it as well. Rossi got on his very last nerve and was always on his case for one thing or another, showing him what he now understood as tough love, and when it came to showing love in Rossi's case his actions spoke louder than his words. Morgan chuckled at the irony of that, who knew that was even possible for someone as outspoken as his friend? He knew come morning the two of them would go back to the way things were, pretend as if nothing had happened, as if they conversation between them had never taken place. It was in both of their nature to do so, but a bond had been strengthened that night, and that would never change. Morgan's mind finally stopped racing and reflecting as he quietly drifted off to sleep.


End file.
